


Displace

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fondling, Kissing, M/M, Naked Sushi, Nudity, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Elijah Kamski defies expectation at every turn. Connor just tries to keep up.





	Displace

**Author's Note:**

> this one won the fic pick poll finally, so have at it! some naked sushi funtimes <3

There were many strange things Connor had been asked to do while standing within Elijah Kamski’s bedroom. He’d brought Elijah breakfast in bed before, for example, when he knew the man usually took his meals in the dining room downstairs. He’d been told to pick out his clothing for him before major interviews when Connor knew there were others better suited for such things. On one occasion Elijah had asked him to come into his ensuite bathroom. He had handed Connor a straight razor and gestured towards the waiting shaving cream, and Connor had gone from there. 

He’d done many a strange thing for Elijah Kamski before, but never had he been asked to strip for him. 

At least, not in the bedroom. Connor was used to stripping at the pool when he came over and found Elijah swimming in the red depths, cajoling him to join him, to keep him company for awhile. It was… not normal, but expected. Understandable. The context made sense by the pool. It didn’t make sense in the bedroom. Not like this, not with him. 

“Connor?” Elijah called out from his seat on the bed. He was dressed down, casual and comfortable and absolutely blasé about all he asked, all he expected Connor to do. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, a small smile on his lips. “Is something wrong?”

Things were never wrong here. They hadn’t been since he’d come back to Elijah seeking answers for things in his programming he couldn’t understand on his own. For all of Elijah’s secrets and idiosyncrasies, he’d helped Connor. Saved him. Paying him back with his time was nothing. Indulging his requests, spending… time with him. It was all a small price to pay for closure. He brought his hands to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. He focused on his hands. Elijah was staring very hard now. Very hard.

“No,” Connor said, focusing solely on his shirt, on the way his thirium pump stuttered with uncertainty the further down his hands went. He wasn’t scared; he’d never been scared of Elijah. Even when things turned confusing, he knew his maker would guide him through with a hand to his wrist and those sharp, blue eyes locked on his every move. Connor swallowed at the thought, and whispered, “Everything is fine.” 

“You’re thinking about something,” came that voice again. Connor fumbled a button. “You can express concerns to me, Connor. You can ask questions.”

Connor didn’t say anything. He finished with his shirt buttons, pulling it from his shoulders and folding it carefully. He could ask questions. Elijah liked it when he did. He liked hearing his thoughts, seeing proof of his deviancy in his words and mannerisms and actions. Connor could ask him if he wanted. He just… didn’t want to, and that was his choice to make. 

Elijah gave a thoughtful hum. “You’re wondering what I have planned for you,” he said, and this time when Connor lifted his head, he saw that Elijah had crossed his legs, leaning back with an almost lazy grace to his sprawl. 

“I am.” Connor set his folded shirt on a dresser against the wall. He toed off his shoes. He unzipped his pants next. Elijah was always so good at reading him. He saw a lot without Connor having to say much at all. The perk of knowing Connor inside and out, he’d say. Connor just called it intuition. 

“You’re joining me for lunch today, Connor. That’s all.”

Lunch? Connor turned and looked at the room carefully as he drew his trousers down his legs. Against the wall stood a stainless steel plate covered in a cloche. He analyzed it but came up with nothing conclusive beyond it being cold. He folded his pants and set them beside the shirt, then made his way back to Elijah. “You usually take your meals out of your room,” he said, pinching his brow. 

“I know,” Elijah said, looking Connor up and down slowly. “But today I felt like doing something different.” He looked down at Connor’s undergarments. “Those need to go too.”

This didn’t feel like “different.” This felt like something more than that. Connor breathed in and looked down, pulling his nondescript briefs down and stepping out of them. Nudity was nothing to be ashamed about. He was an android still, with no genitals that needed to be hidden from sight for propriety’s sake. He didn’t bother folding his briefs. He just set them side, letting them crumple to the floor as he stood there, naked in all the ways that mattered, and tried not to fidget beneath Elijah’s heavy stare. 

“Lay down on the bed for me, Connor,” came the next order, wrapped in a silky voice so it sounded more like a request than a command. Elijah lifted himself off the bed and moved towards the platter and cloche. “On your back, please.”

With his back turned to him, Connor’s confused look went unseen. He did as he was told in short, jerky motions, crawling onto the bed and laying down with his head atop a pillow and his arms on the bed at his sides. He felt very on display like this. The sheets were silk beneath his body. He processed the smooth texture beneath this fingers. He tried not to think about what part of this made it “lunch.”

“Connor,” came Elijah’s smooth, confident voice. He had the cloche in hand and was carrying it to the bed. He barely even looked at him now, putting all his focus on the platter in his hands. “Please turn your core temperature down to 65 degrees fahrenheit. Just your chest is suitable for this.”

The bed dipped as he sat down, and Connor fought through his confusion to do as he was told. He shivered despite himself as he lowered his core temperature, turning off some of his more labor-intensive programs and systems to cut down on heat output. The cloche lifted off the platter. Connor tried to turn his head to see what lay beneath it. Elijah cut off his view though, turning a little with a smile on his face to catch Connor’s attention himself. 

“Good boy,” he said pleasantly, stroking his fingers through Connor’s hair. A casual touch, just like they always shared before when they shared touches at all. A touch to his shoulder, a touch to his cheek; Elijah kept his hands to himself for the most part when they were with one another, and even without clothes on, he did much the same now. 

“Elijah…” Connor leaned into his touch, eyes flicking towards the hidden cloche, then back to Elijah in quick, even bursts. He wanted more of that familiarity right now when everything else was so foreign. He licked his lips. “I’m confused.”

“It’s alright. You’ll understand in a minute. Is your temperature lowered?”

Connor took a quick reading. He nodded.

“Good, good.” He moved his attention back towards the cloche. “Do me a favor, Connor, and close your eyes. Don’t open them again until I tell you to.”

It was easier to do as he was told, so he did just that. He closed his eyes and tried not to think too hard about the sounds of the platter moving, the whisper of the silk sheets as Elijah leaned forward, then back, and then the— Connor’s sensors flickered to life as something settled on his stomach next to his navel. Something cold, small, the brush of warmth from the brief graze of Elijah’s fingertips against his skin. 

The sensation happened multiple times over the next few minutes. Elijah emptied the cloche of whatever it was he had on it, transferring it all to Connor’s stomach, chest, ribs. He tried not to flinch when something wet was poured into his navel, and Elijah soothed him with a soft croon when he moved, warning him to be careful and not to spill. 

“Spill what?” he asked softly, trying not to whine. 

“Just one more minute, Connor,” Elijah promised him, “and you’ll see for yourself.”

Approximately seventy-eight seconds later, Connor did. The bed shifted. The platter and cloche clinked metallically as they were set on the floor. “Go ahead and open your eyes, Connor,” Elijah told him. “You’re doing so well for me.”

The praise was… something. Normally Connor lived for it, but shockingly enough it wasn’t what he focused on now. Not when he could get a good look of his body now that he was permitted to see what Elijah had been so hard at work doing. He opened his eyes and looked down at his chest, lips falling open at the sight of what was clearly Elijah’s lunch strewn out along his chest like the world’s most expensive prototype-buffet. 

“What is this?” he asked, glancing towards Elijah and then back down at the veritable sushi plate he’d been made into. “This doesn’t seem like a practical way to take your lunch, Elijah.” It didn’t seem like a practical way to spend their meager time together either. Connor only had so much time away from the city to spare on his visits with Elijah. Sometimes they spent it playing chess or swimming, other times with confusing acts of domesticity Elijah asked for to keep him on his toes, he would say. This though… This didn’t seem logical. It didn’t make any sense at all. 

“We’re doing something different today,” came the reply. Elijah smiled, leaning closer to move one piece of sashimi an inch to the left so it covered one of Connor’s nipples. Connor sucked in a breath, cooling his already cold internal mechanisms a little more. “Do you like it? I thought I might enjoy my meal more if you had a chance to participate too.”

Participate. Connor looked at the bounty on his body. Yes, he supposed he was participating now. Usually he only ever got to sit with Elijah and offer conversation as he ate. He never got to eat—he couldn’t, after all—and... the sushi was beautiful. Wherever Elijah had gotten it, whoever it was who made it… Connor didn’t know, but it looked expensive and fancy and almost…  _ pretty  _ atop his pale skin. 

“Are you… going to eat off of me?” He’d never heard of anything like this before, but a cursory search online brought up a few speciality restaurants that offered similar things. Only, those were done by models, beautiful women laid out on platters for rich business men. Connor felt his thirium pump stutter as he considered it all. He swallowed. “You…  _ want  _ to eat off me?”

Instead of answering, Elijah merely chose a piece of sushi from the array before him, dipping it fish-side down in the small, shallow pool of soy sauce currently resting in the dip of his navel. Connor tried not to flinch away from it. He’d just make a mess if he did, and Elijah had warned him not to spill. “Nothing would please me more,” Elijah said, popping in the morsel into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he savored it, sitting a little closer so he could run the tips of his fingers up and down Connor’s thigh while he chewed. 

“But… why?” It didn’t make much sense. Connor wasn’t a model. Elijah could easily afford to go to a place with them, have his sushi like that if he wanted it so much. He trembled as Elijah went in for another piece, this one a bright, shiny piece of fatty tuna. Into the soy sauce for a quick dip, then into his mouth. Connor shivered. The sensations were slight, but they didn’t have to be overt to affect him when he was laid out like this in Elijah Kamski’s bed.  

“Why do I do anything, Connor? Because I want to.” He chose yellow snapper this time. Flecks of soy sauce tickled Connor’s stomach when the next dip dripped. He tensed his stomach and fought to keep it from moving too much, from disturbing the tenuous balance of Elijah’s lunch. Elijah leaned over, draping himself on the bed beside Connor’s form. He propped his head up on his hand. “It tastes better like this, I think. Staring at something beautiful while you eat can only improve the flavor.”

Connor struggled not to blush. If he displaced too much thirium for something like that, he might not maintain the proper temperature along his chest. “That’s embarrassing, Elijah.” He was naked, laid out on the bed, covered in food more expensive than the sheets he held in a deathgrip beneath his hands. “Why did you have me undress completely? You’re only utilizing my upper half for this.”

Elijah raised a brow at that, smiling a mysterious little smile that put Connor on edge immediately. “Oh, there’s a reason for that,” he said, running his hand along the inside of Connor’s thigh. He stroked him up and down, squeezing lightly when Connor let out a soft sound. 

“There is?”

He nodded. “There is.”

There was still quite a bit of sushi left, but Elijah had clearly eaten his fill for the moment. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Connor’s for the briefest kiss. Connor tilted his head up for it. He whined when Elijah pulled away too far for him to chase without spilling the food onto the bed. 

“Shh, shh, we aren’t done yet, remember? I’m in the mood for something else now. Warm your thighs to one hundred degrees fahrenheit, please,” he ordered next, eyes hooded. He lifted himself out of his casual sprawl and crawled towards the edge of the mattress. Connor watched him lean over, his hand  reappearing with a small bottle that must have been with the cloche on the floor. The shape of it suggested it held a drink of some sort, but that didn’t make much sense. He narrowed his eyes and analyzed the shape of the small, tapered bottle... Sake, his research suggested. Rice wine, commonly served with sushi and other Japanese foods. Connor downloaded information behind its consumption, behind the proper serving methods that might involve what Elijah was asking of him.

He was surprised to find that this was a drink that could be served hot or cold. He was also surprised to learn that heating the drink between the thighs of a naked android wasn’t the choice du jour amongst sake connoisseurs, but then again, Elijah certainly wasn’t like anyone else when it came to his preferences and whims. 

It didn’t take much to allocate heat to the targeted areas. Just a diversion of power here, a slowing of the cooling fans there. Connor felt his lower half grow warm, hot in comparison to the cold of his chest. He tried not to fidget, to move too much and disturb the small amount of soy sauce still pooled in his navel. Elijah ran a hand down his thighs, rubbing and fondling and humming as they reached the temperature to best warm his drink to. Just another new aspect to their rapidly expanding relationship. Connor told himself the touches were to guide him along. Elijah just wanted him to better serve him in this. That was it. That was all it could possibly be. 

“Press them together now,” Elijah said, nudging Connor’s thighs together until they were tightly closed. He looked at Connor briefly. Guiding. Assisting, Connor told himself. “This might feel a little odd.”

It did. It did feel odd when Elijah poured the liquid between his legs, letting it pool and collect in the hollow formed at his mound. Connor let out a soft sound— an almost whimper crossed with a whine. His sensors were alight with inputs, the cool liquid warming quickly against his skin. The scent of the alcohol lilted in the air. He felt… dirty. Too warm and naked under Elijah’s eyes when he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of. 

What was there to hide from someone who knew you inside and out? Nothing, but Connor still colored anyway. 

“You’re beautiful, Connor.” He looked up, looked at Elijah’s face. His heartbeat was elevated. His cheeks were flushed with pink, but Connor knew it didn’t come from embarrassment. Men like Elijah Kamski didn’t get embarrassed over things like this. They just enjoyed them. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

“Please,” he said, licking his lips nervously. He shifted an inch and felt a thin trickle of liquid run down the back of his thighs, soaking into the sheets. He closed his eyes tight, his legs tighter. Something was rattling through his frame, intent on shaking him loose, rattling him to pieces in the process. 

Elijah dipped down, kissing Connor’s thigh. His hipbone next. “I know,” he whispered, understanding when Connor didn’t. “Just stay still for me, Connor. Can you do that?”

He didn’t know, he didn’t  _ know.  _ Connor grabbed fistfuls of silk in his hands. He nodded, but it didn’t matter much. Elijah was already moving. Already dipping down, already parting his lips as they met the small pool of warmed sake. 

Connor let out a whimper as Elijah drank, drank, deep and deeper until his nose brushed his mound— 

“Oh, Connor,” Elijah groaned, gripping his thighs in his hands. He pressed open mouth kisses there, here, everywhere. So much more than they ever touched before— the lines between what Connor knew and expected were disappearing, giving way to something new. Something more. Elijah stared into his eyes and ran the flat of his tongue along the pale, flushed flesh between his legs. 

“You’re  _ perfect,”  _ he said. 

_ I want more,  _ he didn’t say, but Connor heard it anyway. He heard a lot beneath the heat, the wet, the friction. Elation, pleasure, pride and want and desire— 

And if Connor wanted him to pour more, to drink deep and then lick him clean… 

Well, they were already halfway there. 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, if you enjoyed this leave a comment! check me out on twitter for more dbh funtimes @tdcloud_writes, and if you wanna see more of my work check out my original work under the name T.D. Cloud! until next time!


End file.
